Peter Parker/Tom Holland Imagines {REQUESTS CLOSED}

Do You Love Me More? - TH

Word count: 1520

"And we were all laughing so hard! It was the best you should have seen it!" Your boyfriend laughed loudly, turning to you. You sat crisscrossed on the bed, patiently listening to him tell you about his day. Picking at your nails, you added the occasional half-hearted fake laugh, or 'cool'.

"An-and then, Zendaya and I went to lunch-"

"Wait. You mean you Haz and Zendaya went to lunch? Or Jacob went with you." You cut him off, mid sentence. When he was filming Homecoming two years ago, all you ever heard was Zendaya this, or Zendaya that. It drove you mad. The past year, following the release of the film, had been much better. Tom was still busy filming movies, but at the very least, he spent all of his free time with you, not Zendaya. And it's not that you didn't like Zendaya. She was always so sweet. But she didn't realise the pain it caused you to see her almost replace you in Tom's affections. So you can see why you'd have a problem with Tom going out alone with this girl that he was seemingly infatuated with.

"No." Tom continued, "It was just me and Z. So anyway, we went out to lunch and..." you stopped listening to him, and focused instead on the disappearing amount of midnight blue polish on your fingertips.

Now it's not like they were having an affair or anything... I mean Tom isn't stupid enough to cheat on you, then talk nonstop about the girl, no. If they were, then he'd never talk about her, just pretend she meant nothing to him. But he wasn't doing that. He was obsessed with her. All you ever heard was Zendaya. Even on dates, he'd bring her up at every possible chance. It was sickening. You loved Tom, you did. But it was torture, waiting to see him all day, only to be bombarded by that name.

After a few seconds, minutes, hours, you didn't know, Tom poked you. "Hey? You okay? I asked you a question."

"Oh yeah, I'm fine, sorry," you mumbled, avoiding eye contact, "Just distracted. What did you ask?"

"I wanted to know how your day was."

"Oh. It was good." You responded, as politely as you could muster.

"C'mon, if something's bothering you, just tell me!" He told you, hand resting on your back.

"Really, love, I'm fine." You put on your fakest smile, and hoped it would be enough to fool him.

"I know how to get it out of you," Tom warned, pulling you onto his lap, tickling your torso.

"Tom stop really! That tickles!" You protested, flailing around in his strong grasp. He stopped tickling you, turning you around so you faced him.

Gently kissing your nose, he asked, "Are you sure you're good?"

You nodded, suddenly remembering why you loved him. Because he may have been droning on and on about Zendaya, but that didn't mean that he didn't love you anymore.

It was the next week, and you were trying to prepare the best meal you could for date night. Wiping sweat from your brow, you flipped through the cookbook, scanning the instructions.

"Okay, remove sauce from heat, and sprinkle in salt," you muttered to yourself, as you prepared the bolognese for your spaghetti.

A half hour, and every curse word in existence later, you had two beautiful plates of pasta. Lighting the candles you had set out on the table, you carefully put the plates down. The opening of a door and jingling of keys signified Tom's arrival.

"Hey love. I hope you're hungry, because I made-" you walked into the hallway, stopping short. There was Zendaya. In your house. On date night. "...Zendaya... I d-didn't expect you here..."